The Summer of Escape
by Xyshuryn
Summary: A short one-shot for my friends, showing an escape in more than one way.


The Summer of Escape

It was a warm day on this, 31 July 1996, the 16th birthday of one Harry James Potter. Also known as The Boy-Who-Lived. Although the weather had been quite nice lately, he'd enjoyed none of it as he was mourning the loss of Sirius, his beloved Godfather; the Marauder named Padfoot. However, today, things would change.

For some ungodly reason, Dumbledore had seen fit to tell Harry of the prophecy surrounding him and the self-styled Dark Lord Voldemort. Well, as far as Harry was concerned, he could bloody well have England for all he cared. For unbeknownst to Dumbledore, The Order of the Phoenix, or even Harry's supposed best friends... hereunto known as Beaver and Weasel... Harry had made friends with a few older muggleborns that had been looking after a local shop.

Harry had felt odd at first when the three American mages recognized him, and thought that they'd start in on the celebrity worship, inane questions, or worse... ratting him out to somebody he didn't want knowing he was looking for an escape. To his pleasant surprise though, these Yanks were rather laid back, despite them working in a Goth & Punk clothes store. Turns out they were just working there until their student visa's expired at the beginning of August, and they were all for helping him set up his escape.

As Harry entered the shop today, he was greeted by the two youngest, Andrew and Angie, a nice couple involving a somewhat shy young man who seemed to favor baggy shorts and concert t-shirts, and a funny, outgoing young woman with some interesting piercings, and a lot of wisdom for her short 19 years of life. With a smile and a quick, "What's up?", he was escorted into the back where they'd already picked out and packed a selection of clothes for him.

Oddly enough, the Tripp Pants they were forcing him to change into, without much more courtesy than turning their heads, didn't clash too bad with the "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish" shirt that was a copy of one of Angie's. A soft chuckle was heard as Elder, the (obviously) older of the bunch at a staggering 28 and a half years old, entered. If anybody looked out of place in this shop, it was Elder. Dressed in classic Yank bib overalls and a plaid shirt, he looked like he'd be more at home in a barn if not for the cane he walked with. At least with him, he didn't have to worry about a wand being drawn on him.

Elder clapped the young teen on the shoulder and smirked, looking down through his own glasses. "Well, Kiddo, after pulling a few strings, I've got your passport setup, and even managed to get you a meeting to determine if you'll be staying on an extended Visa, or granted asylum." This had Harry beaming a megawatt smile that could only be matched by the Beaver finding a rare book, or the Weasel getting an extra helping of bangers with breakfast. That was, at least, until Angie squee'd in happiness and hugged him, accidentally irritating a few injuries that hadn't fully healed properly, as well as smashing his head into her cleavage. Thankfully, Andrew was understanding, and managed to save him from an untimely demise. Even if it was one Sirius would've been proud of.

Of course, not everything went smoothly. As they left the shop they found that one of Harry's minders had caught up to him, but were confused when they didn't see the green-eyed hero. This was probably due to his change of wardrobe, some nifty contact lenses he'd picked up and stashed away after a last moment eye exam a week ago, during Dung's shift of course. Then again, him having the same purple and red hair as Angie now, along with a few painfully new piercings, probably helped him fit in. That and standing behind Elder probably worked too. The big guy may not have been that old, but he stood as tall and thick as a California Redwood.

After giving the Order the slip, the four made their way slowly to the American Magical Embassy in London, where Elder's contacts awaited them. Of course, with Andrew and Angie freaking out, Elder calmed them down by extending the trip over 3 bus routes, 2 rides in the underground, and a decent walk in public while pounding down Mango Iced Teas and Harry's newest must-have, Philly Cheez-Steaks. Sure it added more than four hours to the trip, but it also gave the young couple time to calm down and cuddle while Harry tried to view the last he'd probably ever see. Though he would admit to Elder later that he spent an equal amount of time peeking at the thong peeking out of the back of Angie's pants. Elder would admit to Harry that he was doing the same.

After a surprisingly short wait of only about 20 minutes in line at the Embassy to get the paperwork for the returning citizens, and a quick side-chat with Elder's contact, Chrystal Oz, they found themselves waiting for their turn to get an international portkey. Thankfully for the portkey hating hero, the American's version didn't require holding onto something and spinning for 2 hours until they reached their destination State-side, they were sitting in a comfortable, enclosed capsule which was built around the portkey to keep them from spinning and allowing the pleasure of a nap, conversation, and to the joy of all, a selection of muggle music.

Although limited in scope, they all agreed the best choice was Black Sabbath's Greatest Hits. A collection of classic metal that was played as loudly as possible. To be fair though, a couple songs from the Beatles and Elvis were thrown in as well. Elder even got his one request of a Frank Sanatra song. As they landed in Florida, near the Gulf of Mexico, Harry couldn't help but believe that this would be his greatest escape, if for no other reason than he got away from the meddlers, and would get to spend hours on the beach, getting burned and eventually tan, while oggling some of the scandalous bikinis these American women wore. With a wry grin, he spoke to himself, "God bless the U.S.A."


End file.
